


Together

by hithelleth



Series: In Enemy's Hands [5]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Future Fic, M/M, Multi, Romance, Slash, Threesome - F/M/M, Uncle/Niece Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hithelleth/pseuds/hithelleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles returns to Philadelphia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta-ed. All mistakes are mine. Feedback is always welcome.

The feel of the raw wall against his back keeps him awake while tempting him to fall asleep at the same time. Sleep is something Miles can’t afford right now. The ruin on the outskirts of Philadelphia he has chosen for the meeting point isn’t exactly a safe place. Leaning against the wall in the far corner to shelter his back, he points his gun towards the openings where a door and a window used to be.

Then he waits. He keeps his mind occupied by working out plan A, and plan B, and C, and Z to get back to Philadelphia in case his coded message didn’t reach Bass or if Bass had changed his mind. He managed to smuggle it into the post to Independence Hall a week ago, reporting his return and asking for someone to come and pick him up here, just like Bass had suggested in order to make the return to Philly easier for Miles.

For the thousandth time he wishes he could just sneak away to some place he could be left alone. He just might, to hell with righting the wrongs he’s done and shit, but then he remembers Charlie and he can’t do that.

Yeah, he has to go back to Monroe. He doesn’t care much what happens next, not right now. If only someone showed up already. He doesn’t know whether to hope for some stranger or a, probably former, resentful, friend.

He listens intently to anything that moves outside. The ruin is out of the way, but he can hear noises from the distance. Nothing comes close for a long time.

At last he thinks he hears horse hooves closer than they should be. Soon after, footsteps approach. Only one pair. Okay, so maybe everything will go accordingly to the plan. Miles isn’t quite relieved yet, though. He recognises caution in the steps when they come near the opening, and the clank of a safety lock released. He steadies his gun.

A long moment passes. Miles holds his breath. Then a man swings in from behind the wall. And stops. The stare at each other, guns pointed. Miles lowers his first.

“Why wouldn’t I just shoot you right now, Miles?” Jeremy keeps his gun trained on him.

“Go ahead.” Miles shrugs, reaching for his bag as he puts his gun away.

Jeremy drops his hand. “What kind of a game are you playing, damn it? You deserted, were gone for years, then your little band of rebels almost blew me up, killed five my men, Miles,” _Five more on my hands_ , Miles thinks as Jeremy rants on: “…next you fucking gave yourself up only to disappear again overnight!” Jeremy stops to take a deep breath. “And then Monroe called me in yesterday, sent me off to bring you back yet again, inconspicuously and safely, mind you, and, I quote: ‘don’t give him hard time’. Really, what the hell?!”

“You done?”

Jeremy just glares at him.

“I really don’t feel like explaining myself to you just now. Either shoot me or take me back or leave me here and I’ll go to Bass on my own and kill some more people on the way if I don’t get killed first. Either way, you’ll have to deal with him, and that’s not that pleasant these days, or so you said.” Well, that had to be the longest speech he’d had in a good long while.  

“Fine.” Jeremy holsters his gun. “Come on, then,” he gestures to Miles to come along.

“What, no cuffs, ties, the sort?”

“We both know how useless they would be, so let’s just spare ourselves the trouble.” Jeremy returns as he leads the way.

A small distance away, behind a group of trees and bushes, there are two horses waiting.

Riding is not on Miles’ list of favourites, but at least it will considerably shorten the travel time.

From his saddle bag Jeremy produces dried meat and bread and water which Miles accepts gladly. They eat while the sun sets. They ride under the cover of night, the darkness making it harder to recognise Miles, while Jeremy’s rank and name should be a good enough safeguard if they are stopped.

Jeremy takes the route isolated enough they don’t meet a soul, yet not too unusual to raise suspicion. Both for the secrecy’s sake and because neither of them is in the mood, Miles knows for sure at least he isn’t, they don’t say a word. They pay attention to their surroundings, but the journey passes without incident and in a few hours Independence Hall comes into sight. They leave the horses at the stables. To Miles’ surprise, Jeremy heads for Monroe’s quarters, the guards causing no trouble whenever he states his name and that the President is expecting them. He doesn’t mention who Miles is.

Jeremy knocks quietly on the door. When it opens, it’s Bass himself on the other side.

“You look like hell,” he notices.

“Thanks. Haven’t slept in…” Miles tries to calculate, “over forty hours.”

Bass pauses for a second. “Well, come in, then. Your old room is ready.” He turns to Jeremy: “Thank you, Captain Baker. That would be all.” He basically shuts the door in Jeremy’s face while he salutes and leaves.

 _Way to make allies, Bass,_ _if you treat you friends like this,_ Miles thinks, but he doesn’t say anything, not now anyway. Now that he’s here, the weight of the last few days crashes on him, and he has no strength to argue. He thinks of Charlie for a fleeting moment while he heads towards his room, Monroe right behind him.

He swings the door open too wide, making a loud noise when he enters. He drops his bag on the floor.

“You’ve got the pendant?”

 _Of course. That’s all he thinks about._ _Why would you think anything would be different?_ The disappointment is too much to deal with right now, so Miles lets it go.

“Two,” he answers, bending to his bag.

“Leave it.” Miles looks at Monroe, baffled.

“And the rebels, Nora and the guy?”

“What’s with them? You’ve sent me for the pendants, not prisoners, remember?”

“All right. Just asking.” Bass raises his hands, the universal gesture for _calm down, I give up_. There is something on his face. Concern? Relief? “Get some sleep, Miles. We’ll talk later.”

With that he closes the door and Miles can hear his steps drawing away through the hallway. He stands still for a while, not sure what has just happened. Then he manages to make the few steps to the bed and falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

***

“… Matheson is not to be disturbed. Bring him lunch and anything else he may need when he wakes up. I expect him to be treated with utmost respect, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The conversation seeps into Charlie’s consciousness as she’s waking up. Only after some time she realises what it means. _Is Miles back?_

When she comes into the lounge, dressed for training, Monroe is having breakfast as any other time.

“I thought I heard you mention Miles,” she tries to sound casual after they exchange good-morning-s.

“Probably because I did. He arrived late last night.”

Oh. That’s why Monroe sent her to bed saying he had something to do. She recalls half-hearing some noises outside and Monroe coming to bed later when she was almost asleep and didn’t care about any of it. 

“Where is he?” she doesn’t keep the excitement out of the question. Or the worry. _Monroe wouldn’t throw Miles into a jail cell, would he?_

“He passed out.” Monroe gestures in the general direction to the other end of his suite of rooms, answering her question. “Said something about not sleeping for two days. I wouldn’t bother him before he’s himself again if I were you.” There’s a hint of fondness in Monroe’s last words, reminding her of how well he and Miles know or used to know each other.

“I wasn’t planning to.” Even she knows better than that. Miles is enough grumpy as it is, without being sleep-deprived.

Still, she can’t help herself not to tiptoe down the hallway after Monroe leaves and peek into the other master bedroom. Miles really is there, ruffled hair and a few days old stubble, fully dressed and comatose. She leaves as quietly as she can, relieved.

***

Once Miles comes to, the first thing on his mind is that he shouldn’t have fucking fallen asleep. He feels around for his sword, coming up empty-handed. It comes back to him then: sneaking nearer and nearer to Philly by the back roads, hiding both from the rebels and the militia, the waiting, Jeremy, the night ride during which he put all his effort into staying awake, the few words with Bass.

Guessing with his eyes closed it is broad daylight, he opens them slowly. He doesn’t feel that bad anymore, though he wouldn’t refuse a couple more hours of sleep. However, his bodily needs make him get up.

His mouth is parched, so he goes to the bathroom for some water. Seeing himself in the mirror he groans and decides it wouldn’t hurt to clean up a bit, since he’s up anyway. He takes his time, having a first real bath in a month.

Somebody is probably spying on him, because he finds the bedroom tidied up, with a new set of bedding, when he returns. Shortly after, some militia bring him lunch, all bouncy and obliging, and overall acting like he’s the devil himself. He wonders whether it’s because of his former reputation or Bass’ orders. Most likely both.

He doesn’t complain. No one knows better than him it can be good in some situations if people fear you, but he also knows it can turn against you at any time.

He’s left alone after he finishes his meal and the woman from before comes back to clear the table. He looks around a bit, spotting things that must be Charlie’s around the place, although she’s nowhere to be seen. The rooms are the same as he remembers from years ago, something he didn’t have time to notice last month. The room that is supposed to be his, the one they used to call his, though they spent most of their nights in the other one, has been untouched, too, apart from the last two days, obviously. He lies down, not meaning to sleep, but there is no harm in taking some extra rest when he has nothing better to do. He starts thinking about how things will go on from here. Yet, the answers are elusive, because so much is up to other people, to Bass especially, rather than to Miles himself.

***

It’s Charlie’s afternoon-off day, so she gets to see her mother and Danny after training. It’s only the second time in two weeks all three of them are together in the same room at the same time. The occasion is awkward. Both she and Danny are mistrustful of Rachel who pretends everything is normal and reminisces about their childhood. Although Danny is not as negative towards Charlie as he was on the first day, there’s a distance between them, and she can’t talk to him like she wants to in Rachel’s presence. At least she hopes that things between her and Danny will mend with time. She appreciates she can spend time with Danny and their mother, but she’s glad when the visit is over. 

Back in Monroe’s quarters, everything seems as it was in the morning, so she does what she usually does, washing and changing. Afterwards, she’s too restless to sit down. She decides to check up on Miles anyway.

Things are different after all. Miles is sleeping on the side, the linen changed. He looks less ragged than in the morning, with fresh clothes on and he has obviously washed and shaved. His bag is set away at the wall.

Like that, with his guard down, Miles looks older and at the same time younger, peaceful. She is drawn to him, can’t resist lying down next to him, careful not to wake him.  

***

Miles’ eyes open. Moments pass while they just look at each other.

“Hi,” she greets him softly at last.

“Hey, Charlie.” He clears his throat. “I must’ve dozed off. How long have you been here?”

Charlie shrugs. “Not long.”

“So. How have you been? Bass treating you all right?” It seems to her as if Miles holds his breath before she answers.

“I’m fine.”

Miles frowns, an unmistakable concern in his eyes. “No, I mean, really. How are you, Charlie?”

“I’m okay, Miles,” she repeats with more emphasis.

“Charlie…” Miles’ voice trails off. He brushes a strand of hair off her forehead. “The things I’ve done… what we’ve done, it’s…” He cuts to the chase: “Why didn’t you resist?”

“I wanted it,” she states simply.

He studies her closely. He has no idea how to say it, how to make sure that she really is all right, that she really didn’t feel forced into anything. She holds his gaze steadily.

“If you’d said no,” he begins, “if you had resisted for a second, I wouldn’t have… god, even Bass wouldn’t… and if he had, he’d have had to deal with me.” Miles pauses. Inhales. “You knew that, right?”

“I did,” she confirms, and counters: “Do _you regret_ it?”

“No.” She can see his Adam’s apple move as he swallows. “I should, but god knows I don’t.”

“Good.”

“Charlie, I’m your uncle.”

“Yeah, I know.”

There’s another long silence.

Miles breaks it. “I thought you’d have run, screaming with disgust if you had even suspected what kind of… thoughts I had.”

Charlie contemplates it for a moment. “When Monroe said you…, I was shocked –“

“Yeah...” Miles interjects, bitterly.

“No.” She silences him, impatiently. “I was also, um, happy that I wasn’t the only one who felt like that.”

“Charlie.” Miles sighs with desperation. He can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing.

“What? It’s the truth.” She won’t let him back out.

“How can you accept this so easily?” he asks.

She has given it enough thought she doesn’t have to search for the answer. “Because you’re the one good thing that has happened since dad died and I started discovering the world isn’t exactly the way I pictured.”

“You’ve changed.” Miles agrees. He saw it, the changing on the way to Philly, from that fairly naive girl who came to Chicago into this woman he fell for more and more each day. She’s changed in these past weeks, too, and here he is, falling for her still deeper.

“So have you.”

“Perhaps.” Yes, he has. _She_ has changed him.

“You’re less grumpy. You talk more.”

“Thanks, I think.” He’s trying to lighten the mood, though not quite succeeding.

A pause follows again, during which Charlie’s trying to come up with the way to assure him this is what she wants. A knot forms in her stomach when she thinks he might change his mind, reject her. She can’t allow that. She wants him to know how she’s felt, how she feels, although she has no idea how to say it. It’s no time like now, though, so she gathers up the nerve and says it, picking the words awkwardly, but not looking away.

“When I met you in Chicago, I felt like…I mean there’d been boys before –“

“Just what I don’t want to hear.”

 _Great, now he decides to interrupt her._ She ignores him. “ – but I'd never felt anything like this, and then you had to be my uncle.” Charlie rolls her eyes. “But I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about you – like that. I tried, but the more I got to know you…” He was finally someone who didn’t feel threatened by her, someone who didn’t need protecting, a man who could fight like no one she’d ever seen and stand his ground… “…the more I liked you, the more I felt… attracted to you.” She finishes quietly, hoping she’s managed to convey her feelings well enough. It’s not something she’s used to, talking about emotions; she has never done that, not with dad, not with Danny, and certainly not with Maggie, no matter how sorry she is about the latter.

“Charlie.” Miles takes a deep breath: “I should’ve known better. You walk into my bar, all pretty and brave, half my age, and turn out to be my niece.” He stops, licks his lips. His voice is a shade lower as he goes on: “I wanted you like I hadn’t wanted anyone for a long time. I tried to be smart, responsible… But then, with Bass throwing it out in the open, and you just went with it.” He shakes his head. “Damn it, I couldn’t not take the chance.”

He falls silent, doing that thing with his tongue again, a sign of being upset or thinking about something. It draws her attention to his lips, as always, makes her breathing speed up.

“Don’t do that,” she all but whispers.

“What?”

She can see his attention shift the moment she doesn’t respond and he gets it. He does it again, deliberately, that flick of his tongue against his lips that makes her want it was her tongue there, running over his lips.

She moves closer, and then presses her lips on his. They both freeze for a second. Then he relaxes and just slightly opens his mouth under hers, invitingly. She tastes his lips first, slowly deepening the kiss. Miles growls into her mouth when she meets his tongue, and then he pulls her close, their bodies flush against each other. Their mouths are hot, all lips and tongues, perfectly synchronised movements as if practised.

They kiss and kiss, can’t get enough each other. They slide their hands under each other shirts, touching each other’s bare, burning skin a necessity.

They pull away, panting. Miles gently takes off her shirt and bra.

“You’re beautiful.” His voice is rough and she forgets how to breathe for a moment at the intensity with which he watches her.

He kisses her again. She tangles her fingers in his hair, arching closer to him, wanting more as her nipples harden in contact with the fabric of his shirt.

“No rush, Charlie,” he soothes, holding her back. He has no idea how he’s going to make it, but he wants it good and slow this time.

He caresses her, murmuring indistinct words against her skin, the touch of his lips and callous palms almost too much too stand. She can feel him stiff against her, but he takes his time, savouring her as he removes the rest of her clothes, with breaks to lose pieces of his own clothing.

His rough hands are gentle, so gentle they make her lightheaded. It’s like swimming in the air and she needs something to hold on to. She touches every bit of him she can reach, the feel of his strong, firm body grounding her to then and there, so she can revel in every touch, kiss, sound, her body overflowing with warmth and need.

When he positions himself between her thighs, she is all but melted, hot and slick and wanting. He kisses her and enters slowly, prolonging the sensation beyond sweet and tantalising at once. She clings onto his shoulders as he buries his face into the crook of her neck, sucking on her skin.

“Miles.” His name is a breath escaping her mouth as their pace picks up, feeding the fever that’s spreading through her body. Once it’s out she can’t stop repeating it.

“Miles.” As he alternately teases her nipples.

“Miles.” A gasp when he catches her lips between his teeth.

She whimpers it into his shoulder when he finds her sensitive peak. She wraps her legs around his hips, her vision going blank, her own name whispered into her ear unrecognisable when she falls over the edge.

He keeps a steady rhythm as she rides through the waves of pleasure until her legs and arms relax. He gives her a few more slow thrusts before pulling out. He lies back and takes himself into his hand.

Charlie is still catching her breath, but as she sees that, she wants to touch him, wants to do to him what he has just done to her. He doesn’t get further than one tug before she turns on her side and pushes his hand away.

“What –” He grunts as she wraps her fingers around him in response, carefully feeling him, slick with her own juices.

“Oh god.” He groans.

She becomes bolder, tightening her hold, quickening her pace.

“Bass been teaching you?” he hisses through his teeth.

“What if he has?” His reactions flatter her, she can’t help feeling a bit smug.

“Depends on… how well,” he grates. His breathing becomes shallower, faster. He grabs a handful of sheet as he’s getting closer, thrusting into her hand. She rolls her thumb over the slit at the end of each tug and it only takes a few more and he comes hot into her hand, biting his lip, as he cries out her name and she strokes him through it.

“Well enough,” he breathes when he’s done, and his breathing starts slowing.

He turns to face her, reaching for her hand, lacing their sticky fingers together.

They just lie like that. It’s everything. No words are necessary as their breathing and heartbeats gradually return to normal.

They don’t bother to move at the sound of the door. They both recognise the footsteps.

“Nice view.”

Charlie sneaks a look up to see Monroe leaning against the doorjamb, one leg crossed in front of the other, his eyes blazing.

“Fuck you.” Miles grumbles.

Monroe chuckles. “Actually, I think it’s my turn.” He turns to leave, adding: “After dinner.”

***

The atmosphere at dinner is intense, charged with desire. Miles concentrates on chewing his food, trying to act nonchalant and failing miserably. He knows Bass can see right through it, being aware what his words have done to Miles all too well.

There are so many things to say, to clarify between them. He had a lot of time to think about it while hunting for the pendants, but he guesses it can wait. Why ruin the evening, he might just as well wait for Bass to open the topic, possibly tomorrow.

Right now all he can think about is Bass’ words, and he’s not sure what he wants more, to fuck Bass into the mattress or let Bass do that to him. As far as he knows Bass, the latter is exactly his plan. The truth is he can hardly wait for it.

Monroe sits at the head of the table, throwing glances full of lust at him and Charlie, accompanied by an occasional smirk.

Miles grows hard in his pants, shifting in his chair to make more room for himself. When Bass stands up and places his hand on his shoulder, a jolt of electricity runs through him. His dick twitches at the words that follow.

***

Charlie doesn’t know where to look during dinner; her plate and empty air seem the safest choices. She can’t really tell what she’s eating, though.

Her senses are on full alert, her body heating up as the evening progresses. Miles grows restless in his seat. She suspects Monroe knows precisely what he’s doing with his dark looks.

When they finish eating and Monroe takes one more sip of wine, he puts down the glass and stands up. There is a decisive, mischievous gleam in his eyes.

He puts his hand on Miles’ shoulder.

“Come.” He looks from Miles to Charlie. “She can watch.” His words, combined with the low, seductive tone, make something dark and hot unfurl inside her.

It probably has a similar effect on Miles, who bits his bottom lip when he stands up and strides past Monroe without a word. _Oh, yes, it definitely has._ Charlie blushes, averting her eyes only to meet those of Monroe, who grins, knowingly, and follows Miles.

She finishes the remaining half of water in her glass before following suit, her knees already gone soft. A thought passes her mind that Monroe used _can_ , so she doesn’t necessarily _have to_ , but at the same time she realises she _wants_ to, and she’s beyond caring about what’s proper and right today.

Monroe is in the middle of taking off his boots, Miles watching him, arms akimbo. The scene has a feel of such intimacy she would feel as an intruder, did their looks as they glance at her not speak differently. 

She closes the door and moves into the back of the room, not exactly knowing what to do for a moment. It’s not that complicated when Monroe pulls Miles in for a kiss.

She curls up in an armchair, unable to take her eyes off them after that.

It’s all rough and fast, as they grope at each other, unable to hold tight enough. They grunt in between kissing, hungrily, while losing their clothes.

She rocks in her chair, can’t keep her hips still. Her core is wet, soaking her panties. Her body tingles all over at the sight of the two men, now naked, Monroe’s smaller, but more muscular, Miles’ taller, leaner, but still solid, frame, both familiar to her, both gorgeous.

Her breast ache and she needs to touch them, rubbing her nipples through the cotton shirt.

Monroe pushes Miles back on the bed. He steps around to the night stand, takes something out and hands it him.

“Spread yourself for me.”

Miles doesn’t hesitate. He slicks his fingers, spreading his legs wide, and reaches between them, his eyes never leaving Monroe.

When he works one finger after another inside himself, Charlie recalls how they felt inside her, and her breathing catches in her throat. She sneaks her hand under her shirt to touch her bare breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers, while Miles works himself open.

Monroe dips his fingers into the oil, coating himself thoroughly. She traces his motions with her eyes, remembering his shape in her hand.

When Monroe joins Miles in the bed, holding on to his hips before he starts filling him, she can’t resist anymore. She slips her other hand into her panties, between her moist folds, pushing two fingers inside herself when Monroe slams all the way in. Miles growls his name.

She pumps her fingers in and out in time with Monroe’s thrusts, climbing higher and higher on Monroe’s and Miles’ moans, the meaning of their half-intelligible words barely registering with her. With an exception of one, clear exchange.

“Don’t you dare ever leave me again, Miles, you hear?”

“Never, Bass, I promise…”

She grips the armrest so hard her knuckles turn white when Miles cries out and comes while Monroe keeps pounding into him. She rubs her bundle of nerves harder, and her climax sweeps over her just when Monroe finishes, groaning into Miles’ shoulder. Then she slumps against the back rest, surrendering to the shocks of delight coursing through her body.

It’s a while before she can hear the men on the bed disentangle, Monroe rolling off to lie beside Miles.

“Come to bed,” he calls to her after a beat. She pulls her hand out of her panties and stands, her legs all wobbly.

“Hand me my shirt?”

She picks Miles’ shirt from the floor, handing it over. There’s no point in being shy now. Besides, she feels too good, soft and sleepy, so she undresses while they wipe themselves off. Miles throws the shirt back on the floor.

When she climbs between them, Miles makes just enough room that she can snuggle against him. Monroe’s hands are around her instantly as he settles against her back.

“Helped yourself, Charlie?” he whispers into her ear.

“I think your niece liked me fucking you,” he says to Miles.

“I think she did.” Miles strokes her hair. She makes a little satisfied noise into his chest.

“I thought men weren’t that chatty after sex.” Charlie remarks, sleepily.

“And how would you know that?” Monroe is curious.

“I heard women in the village saying so.”

“Really? I wonder what else you have heard women saying.”

“Are you teasing my niece, Bass?”

“What if I am?”

“Can you two just shut up?” Charlie complains. “I wanna sleep.”

“We better let her.” Miles backs her up. “She might not be happy if she doesn’t get enough sleep.”

“Yeah, I know someone else just like that.”

“My point exactly.”

They just shift a little, finding yet a more comfortable position and don’t say anything else. 


End file.
